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After the initial sniggers of Cas and Dean leaving subsided, an awkward silence grew. Sam, Crowley, Claire, Charlie and Becky all shuffled awkwardly in place.
Crowley was the first to realize what had happened. He stood and walked straight to the door. He pulled it opened and tried to leave, but hesitated.
“You love us too much to leave?” Claire snarked standing up from her seat.
Crowley took two steps back and then walked forward again, but stopped before moving through the doorway.
“WE READ ALL THE BLOODY STORIES!” Crowley screamed.
“Yeah, and Dean and Cas left.” Claire added walking toward the door. “Maybe it’s just anti-demon warding.” She pushed Crowley aside and tried to step through the doorway. “What the fuck Becky?” she demanded
“Don’t look at me!” Becky said.
“Don’t look at you? You let those two idiots go, but we’re all stuck here?” Crowley said with and overdramatic crack in his voice.
“Hi guys!”
Everyone spun around.
“KEVIN?!” Sam and Crowley asked in unison.
“Love it when you guys do the unison thing. Well, I don’t know if that ever happened before, but it was pretty damn cute.” Kevin said, “Hey! What’s up?”
“Kevin, you’re dead.” Sam said
“Yeah I know.” Kevin replied
“But you’re here, and where’s your mom?” Sam asked.
“Oh, I’m actually pretty good right now. And Mom’s at home. I was just checking up on you guys after all the fun you were having and decided to join in. I wrote you a story. I did some research on the internet. BTW did you know you can actually be the ghost in the machine when you’re well a ghost . . . in a machine. And I found this really great fairy tale and I decided to use this pretty nifty ship I found, it’s called crow-stiel!”
The remaining party all avoided eye-contact with Crowley who stared straight at Kevin. And if looks could kill things that were already dead, Kevin would be ultra dead right now.
Kevin hands a story over to Becky who steps aside to let Kevin stand before the pulpit and cleared this throat.
“You’re dead. More than that, you’re a ghost. You don’t need to clear your throat?
“I guess old habits die . . .” Kevin hesitates at that word, “. . . hard.”
“Alright, let’s get this going.” Claire said. If we have to sit through one more story, we might as well get it over with.”
“Claire!” Becky hissed. “Do be nice to our supernatural friend.”
Kevin cleared his throat once more before starting.
“So once upon a time there was an angel named Castiel and he wanted nothing to do with the world. He just wanted to hang out in nature and appreciate the earth and not associate with anything to do with humanity because humanity was flawed and awful.
And so he spent days and days and days talking to the animals and plants. Yes, the plants. They have their own language, you know, and Castiel was fluent.
And then one day he finds this crow who is quite clever, but not stupidly clever like humans. He’s just clever. He brags how he tricks the humans into being better than they really are. And Castiel really likes this crow. And their love grows and they want to fuck, but they don’t know how. And they decide that blow jobs wouldn’t really work, nor would most anything. I mean, crows are tiny relative to human sized angels. And their beaks are pointy and not pleasant. Now Castiel was able to please his crow, but the crow wasn’t able to please him. But Castiel was quite cleaver too. And being an angel and he wass able to use his grace to stimulate the crow as well as himself.
“. . .”
“. . .”
“. . .”
“. . .”
“. . .”
“What the fuck?” Sam muttered under his breath.
“What the actual fuck?” Claire repeated.
“LANGUAGE!” everyone chastised the teen.
“O-M-G!” she replied.
“Language aside, she has a point.” Becky said, “Beastiality? That’s fucked up Kevin.”
“Seriously, Kevin.” Charlie agreed, “We don’t want to hear any more of this . . . filth.”
“Are you sure we don’t need to salt and burn your connection with earth? Have you lost it?” Sam asked.
“No, I was just telling a Crowstiel story. I thought the dynamic would be very intrig--”
“Crowstiel doesn’t mean what you think it does,” Claire said laughing.
“Well, what does it--”
“It’s a ship between Castiel and yoo------” Sam started to say. “You should go look it up.”
“What now?” Crowley asked. “Are you trying to imply that I have an interest in that baby in a trenchcoat?”
“Of course!” Becky answered.
“Not.” Sam finished as Sam was out to ensure that Sam survived this night.
“Well, that’s the last story.” Becky said. “I guess we can leave now . . .”